Sam the bartender received the letter on the 22^nd, then placed in a lock box under the bar, next to his Glock 9mm. It would be safe, and ready for Carson when he came.  As usual, there was no return address because, well, Ollie had no known address that anyone knew, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask him because the shadow men would certainly not allow it, he thought.  He knew there were only three days left until Christmas, and therefore, this was a time-sensitive letter, but for some reason, he knew Carson would be there before in time to open it for Christmas. Especially since the beach bar always had a special Christmas party on the 24^th that seemed to attract the customers who didn’t want to be home with family or who did not have families, on Christmas.  Sam was one of those, so he appreciated the business.

Sure enough, Carson arrived.

“Hey Carson!  Merry Christmas.  I was hoping you would make it this year. I have something for you, from the old man.”

“Thanks Sam, and happy Christmas to you too.”  Carson took the letter, and opened it gently with the blade of his pocket knife, careful not to damage anything inside.  He ordered a Guiness, took a swig of the cold brew, then started reading:

Merry Christmas Carson!

I figured you would be here. You’re a Guiness fan now, and somewhat of a loner for various reasons, and that’s why you’re a writer, I figured. Although you write under a pen name, you can’t hide your past like you think you can, but you are learning from a master in that art, and for good or bad, it seems that we are becoming more and more alike, although you’re much too young and wet behind the ears compared to me. That’s why I must keep watching you, because they know you are near the old man.

I’m slowing down at my age, you know and my battery needs to be re-charged a lot more often now, and so I am at one of my favorite beach locations for re-charging.  But the ladies don’t like to dance on the beach during Christmas it seems, something about family, so I decided to get my pen out and try to write a few words to my favorite author who is a damn slow writer.

The thing about my decreased energy is this: although I have a gimpy leg and my hair is white as a sheet and looks like it has been tumble-dried, my mind is as sharp as it was when I was in my twenties. I haven’t seen a doctor in twenty-five years, because well, I don’t need to.  Last time was in 98 when they had to operate on my hip again. Seems my organs are working well, and I sleep solid, and have no aches and pains.

You see Carson, I have suffered a lot in my life, and seen too much evil to ever want anyone else to see, but at the same time, God has saved me from this, many times, even when I wanted to pack it in for the last time.  He has given me abundant blessings, and yes, some gifts, so I must continue to go on.  Every year, I seem to start to lose energy and want to just lay on the beach and let life pass me by, but then Christmas comes and I am rejuvenated with surge of pure adrenaline!

You see, there is something about Christmas, and the celebration of the birth of Jesus that gives me hope, again and again and again, every year.  So that is why I am writing to you.  I realize I have a purpose in life and I sense that each time I celebrate his birth on December 25^th.  Carson, there is much evil in this world, and it is all around us, increasing in intensity all the time, and I am sure you feel that our way of life is deteriorating inexorably.  But with the power of the Lord Jesus Christ, I feel no fear because he is with me. I do not fear death, nor do I seek it.  And he is with you too, Carson.  For that reason, when the president calls, the old man will serve, as long as it is in service to God and his son.

Now, enjoy your beer, sing some Christmas songs, kiss a pretty girl —and you sure as hell don’t need mistletoe for that pleasure, and Merry Christmas.  After that, go home, do some push-ups and pray.   We will meet again son, whenever it becomes necessary.

Ollie.

© SRCarson Publications, 2023